A Family Christmas

by Glenice Crossland

‘I will.’

  Madge got all the bags together, not that there were many considering they were all the woman had to show for sixty-odd years of life. Larry drew the car up at the door, proud to have passed the driving test Mr Smith had arranged for him. Mr Smith said he would be able to find a job anywhere now he could drive. He settled Mrs Cooper in the front seat and made sure she was comfortable, all the time preparing himself for a lecture. It wasn’t long coming.

  ‘Now look ’ere, young Larry,’ she began as they descended the drive. ‘Young Molly’s a good lass but a bit excitable. Now I’m trusting you to behave yerself. Now I know yer only young and it’s ’ard to stop yerself getting carried away, but just you keep that girl pure for her wedding night.’ Larry’s face was puce. ‘Are yer listening, young Larry?’ Larry nodded. ‘Aye, well, I suppose I’ll just ’ave to trust yer. But I love that little lass and yer’d better not hurt her. Do you ’ear?’

  ‘Yes Mrs Cooper, I’ll never hurt Molly. I love her as well.’

  ‘Well, that’s all right then. I shall go off to Blackpool with an easy mind.’

  They drew up at the small station and Larry helped the elderly woman out of the car and into the waiting room where a fire roared and spread its welcoming warmth around the room. Funny, she was usually stiff and often found it difficult to straighten her legs after being cooped up in the car, but she had nipped out like a two-year-old this morning. Larry supposed it was the excitement of going to begin a new life in Blackpool. He wished he was off with her. He carried her assortment of luggage onto the platform.

  ‘Now then, remember what I’ve told yer. Be a good lad, and this is to tek Molly somewhere nice.’ A handful of coins was pressed down into Larry’s hand.

  ‘Crikey. Thanks, Mrs Cooper. I ’ope yer like it in Blackpool.’

  ‘I shall, Larry. I shall.’ Then she was stepping up onto the steam train, off to her new life on the Lancashire coast.

  Nellie’s son was born on the fourteenth of February. Of course he was named after his grandfathers, Henry William. Unlike her sister, Nellie had given birth in a nursing home, though she had protested that she would have been just as cared for by Mrs Cooper – who despite having never given birth herself had enough common sense to cope with the situation. Mrs Cooper didn’t care so long as mother and child were safe and healthy. Nellie was blooming, ‘like a full-blown rose’, her mother-in-law said, whilst holding her precious grandson for the first time.

  Lily, of course, burst into tears at the sight of the turned-up nose and tiny fingers and toes. ‘Can I ’old ’im, Nellie?’

  ‘Of course you can, so long as you don’t drown him in tears.’

  Lily giggled. ‘Ooh I won’t, it’s just that ee’s the cuddliest baby I’ve ever seen. Ooh, I can’t wait for yer to bring ’im ’ome.’

  ‘Well, I don’t want you and Mrs Cooper falling out over him.’

  Nellie was only half-joking; at the moment she didn’t want anyone taking over her son. She just wanted to hold him and gaze at his perfection. No doubt she would be glad of Mrs Cooper taking over after a while, but for now Nellie was so possessive of her child she would have fought anyone who tried to take him out of her sight, even Mrs Cooper.

  The housekeeper – who wasn’t a housekeeper any longer – was in her glory rearranging the room that had been turned into a nursery, and familiarising herself with the routine of the guest house. At the moment she didn’t quite know what to call herself – certainly not a housekeeper, but was she a nanny either? For the time being she thought of herself as a mother’s help and in Nellie’s absence had taken over the cooking, the planning of menus and the book keeping. Now that was one thing she was definitely good at, having kept the accounts at the manor for more years than she cared to remember. The one thing she had to become accustomed to was the telephone, the one at the manor being in Mr Smith’s office. Mrs Cooper complained heatedly to Lily every time the contraption rang. She was gratified nevertheless when she arranged a booking for two gentlemen to stay from the first of April until the last day of September. When she told Tom on his return from work he was amused when she told him the couple didn’t mind sharing a room. ‘Seems a bit odd that,’ she added. ‘Perhaps they’re economising.’

  ‘They’ll be show people,’ Tom guessed. ‘Some of them have odd tastes, Mrs Cooper, but you’ll find they’re quite harmless and usually of an extremely generous nature.’

  ‘And they keep their rooms lovely and tidy,’ Lily added.

  Mrs Cooper was so proud of the way she had managed to cope with the phone and secure the double booking that she didn’t quite grasp what Tom was implying, then suddenly the penny dropped and so did her mouth – wide open.

  ‘You’re not tellin me they’re …’ She searched for the right words, her face turning crimson as she failed to find them.

  ‘Pansy boys.’ Lily helped her out and giggled. ‘Or pansy old men. There’s a lot of ’em in Blackpool, Mrs Cooper. They’re sometimes famous. From on’t Winter Gardens and places like that. They’re nice really and you ’ave to laugh at ’em sometimes.’

  ‘Well, I never thought I’d live to see such a thing, and in the same ’ouse as I’m living in.’ Mrs Cooper was quite taken aback.

  ‘You’ll soon become accustomed to them,’ Tom said. ‘Actually they accounted for a large amount of our business last year.’

  ‘Ooh, Mr Johnson, they’re going to love little Henry; they always make a fuss of the children. Ooh ee’s not ’alf going to be spoiled.’

  ‘Oh well, if they’re good with childer and pay their bills on time I shouldn’t think there’ll be much to complain about.’ Mrs Cooper thought she’d probably been stuck at the back of beyond for far too long. She’d have to move with the times now she was in a place like Blackpool. Besides, she might even manage to obtain a free ticket to one of the shows if she played her cards right. She might even get used to that flaming telephone an’ all, if she lived long enough.

  To the delight of the children on Top Row, a street party was organised on the twelfth of May to celebrate the coronation of King George VI and Queen Elizabeth. The men and boys from along the row managed to drag a piano outside and tables were laden with an assortment of food by the women. The woman at the top house of Side Row changed her mourning dress for a smart navy costume, white blouse and a red hat, bought specially from the Co-op. She had also hung a Union Jack from her bedroom window.

  One of the Murphy lads, assisted by a pal, had smuggled out one of his mother’s sheets and made a banner which they hung on a clothes line, stretched from one block of lavatories to the other. Mrs Murphy had almost had a seizure at the loss of one of her precious – albeit threadbare – sheets. ‘Wait till I get my ’ands on ’im.’ She hurried as fast as her round frame would allow with the intention of throttling the lad, but when she saw the words GOD SAVE THE KING hanging in all its splendour for everyone to admire, her anger changed to pride and she merely patted her son on his tousled hair and strolled back to her chair. Mrs Cadman, realising how the loss of a bedsheet would affect the family, had presented Mr Murphy with a pair of sheets of beautiful quality, used only once for her mother’s laying out. To be truthful she was glad to be rid of them, especially to such a good cause.

  A couple of crates of beer had been delivered from the Bottling Company with lemonade to make shandys for the ladies. As a special treat for the kids there was also cherry pop in bottles with a marble stopper. Jack and Harry Holmes organised a darts match and Kitty brought out a huge bull-rope for skipping. With a decent quantity of drink to drive him on, Will had everyone in stitches as he reeled off one joke after the other. ‘He ought to be on’t wireless,’ Mr Holmes laughed. ‘Ee’s a right comedian is that one.’ He was trying hard not to slur his words but Mr Holmes had consumed a few bottles more than usual, not just to celebrate the crowning of the king but also the birth of his first grandchild, a baby girl born to his daughter Marjory.

  When darkness fell and the dancing began,
Robbie took the little dog for a last walk of the day. The sight of couples in each other’s arms was too hard to bear. Baby knew the way by now and set off excitedly in the direction of the farm. Robbie couldn’t believe his luck when he climbed the stile and came face to face with Dot.

  ‘Robbie!’

  ‘Dot!’ Baby and Bob greeted each other and chased off into the long grass. ‘Lovely night.’ Robbie was lost for words, yet there was so much he wanted to say.

  ‘Beautiful.’ Though it was just an ordinary night, not special at all. She stood still, unable to meet Robbie’s eyes; if she did she would give herself away, show her feelings, probably cry.

  ‘Oh, Dot.’ Robbie moved closer, and placing his finger beneath her chin tilted her face towards him. His eyes searched hers and suddenly she was in his arms. She could feel his heart beating like a drum and the heat of his body against hers. Her lips searched in the darkening night, hot and hungry for his. He could feel her breasts through her cardigan, her nipples hard against his chest. She felt his erection straining for release and she desired him so much, wanted him inside her, needing release from the months of longing. She drew away. She loved him so much, would always love him, but it was a forbidden love; to give in to such love would be wrong. ‘No, Robbie.’

  ‘All right, but please don’t go. Just let me hold you. I’ve wanted to for so long. Just stay close to me.’ Robbie breathed in the scent of her hair and Pears soap and closed his arms around her.

  Dot fell against him, heavy with longing but for the moment, content just to be with him. They stood looking down at the long, winding road in the valley, then up to the farm.

  ‘Look, there’s a light on in the old buildings,’ Robbie said. ‘Is somebody in there?’

  ‘No, there’s no one there, except the shepherd.’

  ‘The shepherd?’

  ‘Aye, the ghost. We can hear him in there sometimes.’

  ‘Wow. Aren’t yer scared?’

  ‘No, he’s guarding the place for you and me. Keeping it safe for when we’re ready to move in.’

  ‘Oh, Dot. If only we could.’

  ‘We shall.’

  ‘How can you be sure?’

  ‘Gypsy Lee said so.’ The dogs came charging down the field, barking and disturbing the couple. Robbie released her from his embrace.

  ‘I hope she’s right.’

  ‘She’s always right. Come on Bob, it’s time to go home.’

  ‘Aye, we’d best be getting back.’ He kissed Dot one more time then turned reluctantly towards the stile. ‘And don’t forget, Dot Greenwood, I love you.’

  ‘And I love you, Robbie Grey, and don’t you forget it either.’

  Robbie almost skipped down the path and back up the hill, lighter at heart than since the day he had last held Dot in his arms.

  The celebrations were in full swing when he reached Top Row. He could hear the men gathered round the piano singing ‘After the Ball’. Lucy was sitting by the door, listening in case any of the children should wake and need her. Robbie went towards her.

  ‘You look about sixteen, Lucy Grey. If I wasn’t in love with somebody else I could quite fancy you.’

  ‘And if I wasn’t in love with your brother, Robbie Grey, I could quite fancy you.’

  Laughing, he pulled Lucy up the yard. ‘Come on, I think it’s time I learned how to dance. You never know, I might have cause to celebrate one of these days.’

  ‘I hope so, Robbie. Come on then. Here beginneth your first lesson.’ After a few stumbles Robbie got the hang of it and they waltzed round and round, faster and faster until Lucy began to feel dizzy – Robbie content now he knew Dot still loved him, and Lucy just enjoying the dance.

  ‘All right, Robbie, it’s my turn now.’

  Robbie let go of her and as John’s arms gathered her to him Lucy felt the familiar warmth she experienced every time they were together. ‘Do you know something?’ she said as they moved slowly now to the music, ‘I don’t think anyone in the whole world could be happier than I am. Not even Queen Elizabeth.’

  John pulled her closer. If Lucy was happy then so was he.

  It was three o’clock in the morning when the knock came at the door. John was out of bed and pulling on his trousers by the time Lucy had roused herself properly. ‘Summat must be wrong.’ John hurried downstairs. By the time Lucy was dressed he was back up again. ‘Lucy, it’s the woman who gave us the pushchair; she’s hurt. Can you come?’ Lucy was already on her way.

  ‘Oh, come and sit down, Mrs Hakin. Whatever’s happened to you?’

  At Lucy’s kindness the woman burst into tears. It was the youngest of the four children huddled close to their mother who enlightened Lucy.

  ‘Me dad did it. Ee got pissed up again.’

  The girl who looked about fourteen slapped him on the leg. ‘Stop swearing, our Danny.’

  ‘Well, ee did. Ee always hits somebody when ee’s pissed up. This time it wor me mam, last time it wor our Gladys.’

  ‘Stop telling tales.’ The girl slapped him again.

  By this time Mrs Hakin had recovered a bit and John had begun bathing the woman’s eye and washing the blood from her cheek. ‘I didn’t know where to go, Mr Grey. Ee’s chucked us out and locked door. It was our Jane who said that Bernard’s mam’d look after us.’ Jane was in the same class as Bernard and often shared a meal with them rather than go home. Now Lucy realised why the little girl spent a lot of time away from home.

  ‘She did right to tell you that. We’ll manage for tonight,’ John frowned, ‘but after that …’

  ‘Oh, ee’ll be all right when he’s sobered up. It’s just the drink that affects ’im.’

  ‘Well then, let’s get you lot to bed.’

  ‘Oh I didn’t expect that.’

  ‘You girls can squeeze in with Rosie and you two lads can go in with Bernard.’

  Jane began to protest. ‘I want to sleep wi’ Bernard. ’Ee’s my friend.’

  ‘Shut up and do as Mr Grey tells yer.’ Gladys pulled her sister after her towards the stairs.

  Mrs Hakin sat on the sofa. ‘I’ll be right grand ’ere, thanks.’ Finally they were all settled, until Andrew, disturbed by the noise, decided he had slept long enough.

  Two days later Lucy had to get out the nit comb and vinegar.

  ‘So much for doing someone a good turn,’ John said as she poured vinegar water over his head.

  ‘God will repay us one day.’ John hoped Lucy’s philosophy proved to be right.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  ON A LOVELY September day William Gabbitas and Elizabeth Hague were married. Most of Cragstone turned out to see the popular marketeer and the pretty local girl tie the knot and with Will’s family and friends from Millington the church was more crowded than it had been for many years. For once, Herbert Goodman was amongst the congregation and the memory of his daughter’s wedding brought pain to him and Louisa. Mr Brown felt quite emotional at the sight of Will and Betty’s obvious happiness. The bridesmaids, including Primrose Grey, looked as pretty as a picture in lemon satin dresses and juliet caps and muffs made by Mary. Will never noticed, having eyes for no one but his bride.

  A straight-faced photographer had been hired, but by the time Will had done playing the fool and making a joke of the whole procedure, even he had a smile on his face. The Cragstone housewives had donned their finery to watch their favourite greengrocer become a respectable married man and poor Betty had to cope with a barrage of ribald remarks. Fortunately she was as broad-minded as they were and though she seemed to ignore them she couldn’t help smiling at remarks such as ‘We’s ’ave to mek do wi’ one of them there carrots now young Will’s out of bounds, Polly.’

  Polly’s answer of ‘Nay lass, a cucumber’d be more like,’ brought smiles to the faces of the bystanders. Broad-minded Betty might be but she found herself blushing to think that the vicar and his wife were listening. However, Will held her hand and gazed adoringly at his new wife and Betty couldn’t care less
about anyone except him.

  The reception was still in progress when the couple slipped away. They could hear the Lambeth Walk as Betty’s father opened the car door for them. ‘Well lass, what does it feel like to be a married woman?’ He looked lovingly at the daughter he was going to miss so much.

  ‘Ask me when we come back from Blackpool, Dad.’

  Then they were at the station and on their way to Nellie and Tom’s, the honeymoon being a wedding gift from the Johnsons.

  ‘Oh, and Dad.’ Betty’s eyes were filling with tears. ‘Thank you for making this a wonderful wedding day for us.’

  ‘And for the house,’ Will added as he shook his father-in-law’s hand.

  ‘You’re welcome, lad. Like I said, just take good care of my lass. So long as she’s looked after I shall be content.’

  ‘She will be, I promise. The train’s coming. Better get the bags out.’

  ‘Yer going to be tired by the time yer get to Blackpool.’

  Then they were on their way, alone in a carriage with pictures on the wall of Buxton and Harrogate and Robin Hood’s Bay, and the blinds lowered at the windows. ‘Well, Mrs Gabbitas, are we going to wait for a nice feather bed in which to consummate our marriage?’

  ‘Nothing wrong with this seat as far as I can see.’

  ‘Nothing wrong at all.’ And then Betty was in his arms and for once in his life, Will Gabbitas was silent. He had more important things on his mind than making witty remarks. In fact he had never felt more serious about anything in his life. Betty was his and he was about to find out at last what lovemaking was all about. Betty’s dad had been right: they were tired by the time they reached Blackpool.

  Mrs Cooper had settled in remarkably well and had fallen completely in love with little Henry. On fine days she wheeled him on Central Drive and down onto the promenade. She couldn’t help showing off a bit with the Silver Cross pram when she sat in one of the shelters to rest her feet and have a bit of a gossip with other pram pushers, or other elderly people simply out for a brisk walk and a bit of sea air. She made friends with a grandmother and both women tried to outdo each other with how much weight the babies had gained, or which one had slept through the night, or smiled their first smile. Both women were wise enough to realise the smiles were only wind.